The Hose Party
by ThePsychoVamp
Summary: Mood swings. Misunderstandings. Mixed signals. Neither Emmett nor Edward can decide which of these they would prefer to leave out of their daily lives, but a stubborn best friend and a bit too much cider might just wipe them out in seconds. Edward/Emmett slash story. Written for bornonhalloween's birthday.
1. Motivation

"I'm gonna have to tell you to fucking duck if you don't shut your mouth, Whitlock."

Emmett reckoned that was probably going past the borders of passive aggressiveness— and there was definitely a scintilla of hostility in his voice which not even he felt comfortable with — but the truth was that Jasper had been stretching his patience since the party had started, and there were only so many accurate, relatable insults a man could bear before snapping.

Especially when they came from your best friend.

"Go ahead. I'm all wet already, so there's not much you can do sh—"

 _Actually,_ Emmett thought with a smug smile, watching the spray of cold water ricochet off the blond's face as he pointed his hose at him, _there's a lot I can do so I won't have to listen to you, loser_.

Obviously, he did feel a bit guilty when he finally turned off the hose and let his roommate wipe his eyes and mouth with the hem of his relatively dry sweater. Having been made aware of the concept behind Garrett's party, Emmett was sure they were not supposed to use the water balloons and garden hoses at everyone's disposal to take revenge against unorthodox matchmakers.

"That was a shitty thing to do."

"I know."

"And it doesn't change the fact that I'm right."

"I _know_."

Of course he did. Emmett was perfectly aware that Jasper's criticism was spot-on. The whole point of coming here in lieu of attending an actual Halloween party was to get closer to a certain hot-as-fuck redhead, not to stare in fangirl-like longing at him from across the lawn as if that would grant him anything but disappointment.

"I don't know what the hell you're waiting for."

"Look, I know I should probably be doing something, but it's not nearly as easy as you're making it out to be."

This, in fact, was a statement that Jasper couldn't refute. Unlike Emmett, he had yet to have a conversation with their neighbor that proved they were something more to each other than mere acquaintances, so he'd never had to deal with any of Edward Masen's alter-egos besides Mr. Epitome-of-Politesse. He'd never had to face a grumpy-looking boy telling him to turn his music down because he needed to study or hear a snappish reply while he was just being his usual playful self or receive the cold shoulder only a day after thinking he was going somewhere with his plan to get into the guy's pants.

Jasper had only a very vague idea of how difficult Edward could be.

"Well, it looks like it's pretty easy for other people."

"I told you before it's not the same— umph!"

This time it was Emmett's face serving as a target for Jasper's water gun.

"There," his roommate said, pushing his face in the direction he'd been looking practically since they had arrived, and he saw for himself—through the drops that hung off his lashes—what the other was talking about. "That's Liam. He's in my American History class."

He pointed to a burly brunet standing beside the pool ladder, a beast of a guy whose broad shoulders shielded half of Edward's face from view while they shook in muted laughter. Emmett's stomach twisted as his gaze caught the shine that covered his neighbor's green eyes, evidence that he was… laughing along.

"Is he gay?"

"Definitely."

"Tell me your flair is really just that sharp and your friend is not a—"

"Yep. He is."

Emmett brushed away the water that pended from the tip of his nose with a callused hand. The uncomfortable feeling in his stomach had begun to well up, and the longer he stared at the pair and let his imagination run wild, the more he wanted to breeze past the throng of soaked partygoers and jets of water to throw Edward over his shoulder and take him away from people who certainly didn't understand him like he did.

 _Because a caveman also cries and all that._

"Whatever. Edward wouldn't date a History major."

Jasper blinked in confusion, his brow set into a heavy frown.

"No offense."

"I thought it was clear that Liam is not really into monogamy."

"Well, isn't that perfect? Edward is not really into sharing his sheets with History majors, so I don't see why I should worry."

Silence ensued. Liam had (thankfully) vanished from his sight, and once again, Emmett was able to make out from where he sat the inward curve at the small of his neighbor's back and the tempting outline of his ass, where his gaze couldn't help lingering for a moment or two before it travelled up to a lowered head. He noticed that Edward was religiously studying the grass beneath his fidgety feet, that his hands kept plunging into the thick, wayward mass of bronze hair on top of his head, and with a gulp, he realized that his crush was unsurprisingly nervous.

A cold, phantom finger poked the bottom of his spine, and in less than a second, he was on his feet, swallowing his own words without difficulty.

In fact, there were more than enough reasons why he should worry.

"Hold my hose."

Emmett threw it over to where Jasper sat, noting with a laugh that his best friend had his eyes closed as if he were trying to ward off some terrible image.

"You should be saying that to someone else, you know."

"That's the plan, buddy."

Actually, it wasn't—not yet at least— but he liked to think that in this traffic light party that was college life, there were no people wearing yellow bracelets, and he could just take Edward home with him right now and not worry about the residual possibility that he'd screw everything up, and his neighbor would never want to look at his face again.

Because that would make things a little awkward for them both, considering that they lived less than fifteen feet apart.

And, yes, okay, it would probably, instantly, completely destroy his heart as well.

 _But hell_ , he thought as the distance that separated him from the object of his tacit pursuit was gradually shortened, a _t least that'll make for a rad Halloween dessert_.

A.N.: We should all gang-hug Emmett. AND, of course, bornonhalloween, because of numerous reasons, the first being that she writes fantastically and you should check out all her stories (because I'm saying so, and that should be enough, children) and the second being that it is her birthday today, which is why I'm publishing this little thing tonight. This is a five-chapter story, and the next sections will be published soon enough, but meanwhile… Stay tuned!


	2. Doubt

Edward hadn't really had a chance to settle down in his beaten-down apartment in New Haven before he literally bumped into Emmett McCarty. At the time, just as he'd glanced up at a dimpled smile that he'd only be able to mirror if he stood on the balls of his feet, the clumsiness of the encounter had seemed pretty much inevitable (what with his neighbor's quarterback shoulders taking up so much of the space in the small hallway), and so, avoiding overly friendly, excessively genuine, painfully handsome student-athletes hadn't appeared to be something to add to his to-do list.

Until, as if he'd suddenly recovered fifty percent of the visual acuity in his myopic left eye, the so-called little things had begun to seem not so inevitable, and Edward had started to wonder if, or better yet, to _hope that_ his feelings were not completely unrequited.

…And right afterwards, he'd developed a pressing urge to doubt his own suspicions.

Because Descartes might've been wrong about a lot of things, but his method was still useful and recommendable and all things good.

In fact, it came in handy during situations like this.

"Hey, is that beer I'm looking at?"

Edward's eyes darted down to the inside of his plastic cup, where his drink of choice swirled and splashed against the rim as his hand moved in an absent dance.

"No, this is actually, um, cider."

 _Or a cocktail of pointless yearning mixed with barely sweetened disappointment._

"You're not legal."

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he gave a small shrug, his mind tainted both by the memory of his neighbor's back muscles rippling beneath his skin while he walked across the football field and the thought that what wasn't—or shouldn't be— legal was this man's goddamn DNA.

"It doesn't have a lot of alcohol, so it's all right."

Indeed. Strong drinks always made him spill his secrets before his dinner, and there was no way in hell either of them would be very comfortable dealing with such a ghastly combination.

So it _was_ all right. For now.

"So, who was that guy you were talking with just a minute ago?" Emmett asked with a grin that plowed two holes into his cheeks and put his pearl-whites on display, almost making the lack of true contentedness in his blue eyes go unnoticed. Edward told himself for the hundredth time not to put too much trust in his gapped knowledge about micro expressions and chose instead to relocate his gaze towards the spot where Liam stood with his arm draped around another boy's shoulders.

"Oh, that? He's just a friend. I mean, he's not even a friend, to be honest. I just met him, and we got talking."

"I see. Interesting guy?"

In fact, he was. Only a couple of minutes into their conversation, Edward had thought that Liam could talk about pretty much anything as if he'd studied the subject all his life, binding every field in a holistic view that'd kept him enraptured for a good while and (almost) managed to distract him from the sight of his neighbor, wet and dripping on the stone bench across the garden.

"What? I mean, no. Not really. He's not very interesting at all, to be frank. A bit of a… tabula rasa, I suppose you could say."

"That's harsh."

"I'm sorry."

This time Emmett's laugh was undeniably genuine, and it was with wide eyes that Edward realized he'd just done the exact opposite of what he had been trying to accomplish since the idea that his neighbor could _possibly_ feel something for him had flashed through his head.

"I think that's enough ciderfor the night, champ."

"Actually, I think I might have to, um, refill. If you'll excuse me…"

"Wait."

With his eyes shut tight, Edward willed away the tingles that crawled up his spine as Emmett's fingers wrapped around his wrist. It wouldn't do to focus on meaningless things like these moments of ambiguous physical contact, or on jealousy-tinted questions that were probably a lot more innocent than he'd like to think— not when they had the older-brother's-best-friend kind of treatment as an undercurrent.

And not after he'd made a fool of himself trying irrationally, desperately, pathetically to please someone whom he'd vowed to keep a safe enough distance from.

"What's that book you told me about the other day?"

"What?"  
"That French book about the social alpinist." Emmett laughed at the frown that fell upon the redhead's face. "Your words, not mine."

"That's not… I mean, it's called _Bel Ami_. But—" Edward let out a quiet huff, looking up through his lashes at the vaguely impish smile that colored his neighbor's face— "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I thought it sounded interesting, and I'd like to find it."

"Okay, then… Just— don't look for it on the Internet."

"Why's that?"

"You won't find it right away."

"You said it was classic."

"I did, but there are other things with that name."

"Such as?"

Edward was sure his cheeks had gone beet-red in a matter of seconds, and the worst was that he didn't know whether they would combust out of embarrassment or anger. He tended to take Emmett's good intentions for granted, which meant that _usually_ there was no space in his head for the possibility that his neighbor could be, in fact, playing him like a freaking fiddle, and then there were moments like this when— when he had no choice but to react to that same possibility and turn into Godzilla for a minute or two.

"Such as X-rated websites," he said through gritted teeth. "Can I go now?"

"Sure thing, but before that…" Leaning closer, Emmett lowered his voice to a whisper, his warm breath fanning over Edward's ear and making the hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end.

"You do know that this is a sort of X-rated party, too, right?"


	3. Realization

Garrett's invitation had seriously come as a surprise, mostly because the idea Emmett had of frat people— and more specifically, frat people from Yale— was that they thought of other normal, priority-oriented students as filthy peasants who probably had cooties.

It'd turned out, though, that the party host was actually a pretty swell guy. Despite having been in Yale for enough years to be considered part of the furniture and notwithstanding the fact that he was clearly _loaded,_ he was without a doubt one of the most unconceited people Emmett had ever talked to.

He was also gay— or at least Emmett believed he _had_ to be. Otherwise this would be a very, _very_ generous sort of charity event.

Edward's feline eyes scanned the area around them as he spoke, widening as they took in the multitude of heavily drenched men peppered across Garrett's yard.

In the beginning, it hadn't been exactly obvious— hell, if Emmett hadn't known beforehand what the party was all about, he would've thought that this was a summer fiesta that'd had for some reason to be postponed, but as time had gone by, the concept that underlaid the event had begun to reveal itself. Wet shirts clinging to warm, willing bodies and plenty of bedrooms upstairs made up a sum whose result was probably giving Jasper a slight headache.

Not that this was an attempt to recreate some lost Babylon for some hours, but still— it was nice to have a roommate who didn't mind getting zero profit and sitting around all night just so they could talk his friend into grabbing hidden opportunities.

Emmett looked over his shoulder to see if said roommate had decided that his work here was done, only to find him talking excitedly to a philosophy major from their university, which showed there _were_ some reasons why he couldn't really blame Edward for being oblivious— Garrett hadn't openly invited girls to the party for fear that it would bring a wave of attendants that didn't care about its true aim (and upon Emmett's insistence that there was something sexist about that choice, he'd spontaneously decided to convince his friend Tanya to throw a similar party for women), but he hadn't excluded mere sympathizers from the list, which was why Emmett had put so much faith into the possibility that Liam didn't play for the same team he did.

So it _was_ possible for someone not to be aware of what this party was all about if they tended to ignore the physical world in favor of putting everything into question.

"What? Did nobody tell you?"

Edward blinked, the redness on his cheeks deepening slightly. Emmett laughed and felt something inside him clench, all at the same time remembering the vague stammering that'd marked the other's speech during the beginning of their conversation.

Polite as he was, Edward always seemed to those who talked to him for the first time to be a bit… lost in his own ingenious mind— so much so that at times, it looked as if he wasn't interested in what the other person was saying. It took time and effort to get to know him and realize that the things that'd appeared to go over his head during those first conversations had indeed stayed with him and that, though not very observant, he was the furthest thing from self-centered.

He was also astoundingly reserved, especially when it came to matters of sex.

"Look, if you don't want to stay here—"

"Why wouldn't I?"

He'd forgotten this other aspect of Edward's character: He had the incredible fucking capacity of making Emmett feel like he was suddenly pushing his luck when just seconds before he'd been convinced that their friendship was reaching a new level.

"Why do you do this?"

"Why do I do what?"

Huffing quietly, Emmett reminded himself that of the two of them, there was only one person who liked prodding people for information to get the answer he wanted, so Edward truly _was_ in the dark.

"Please don't be offended," he said, wincing slightly as the memory ran through his head of Jasper, telling him during a drunk night that true friends were those that didn't mind insulting each other.

"I know this is you. You're shy. I get that. But sometimes I feel like you and I have gotten closer because you're speaking more to me, and then suddenly I make a joke, and you get annoyed, and before I know it, you're treating me like I'm little more than just your neighbor and… Do you know what I mean? I can't decide if you want us to be friends or if just you hate me. _Or_ if you don't give a shit about me at all. And the worst is that I can't chalk it all up to shyness."

Struck by a sudden, almost dizzying lightness in his chest, Emmett didn't notice the growing anger on Edward's face— not until the redhead took the honest route himself and started pouring his own thoughts out.

" _How_ — How am I supposed to know how to act around you if _you_ keep sending me mixed signals? You catch just the right moments to get me to say things that I don't want to say, and then you act all friendly towards me and _dare_ to sound genuine, and I have to stay put and ignore the chance that you might be making a goddamn fool of me."

"That's not—"

"And besides, even if that's not your intention, how am I supposed to know for sure if you're touching me because you like me or because that's just what you _do_? That's what you do, Emmett. You're friends with everyone, and you don't mind people invading your personal space, which I can't understand at all, so how can I be a hundred percent certain that if I invade yours, it will mean something different to you?"

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, tense and wide-eyed. Edward had his hands balled into fists by his side, his chest heaving as he took quick, shallow breaths, and meanwhile—

Meanwhile a hint of a smile broke through the shocked look on Emmett's face, and soon after, an elated laugh bubbled up in his throat.

"Fuck. Goddamnit. Come here, kid."

Letting out a sigh of relief in between chuckles, he took Edward's hand in his, working his thumb slowly into the tight space between the other's coiled fingers.

"You can invade my personal space all you want. But I think there are better places than this for you to do it."


	4. Resolution

It took Edward a while to realize Emmett was joking. When he did, the anxiety that'd been brewing and simmering in the pit of his stomach was eased, but immediately afterwards, a sour taste flooded his mouth, reeking of disappointment and crushed hopes.

He did want to invade Emmett's personal space— and have a drink and make himself at home and put some other dozen metaphorical ideas into practice. However, the truth (and he'd only seemed to really understand that after he'd said it) was that intrinsically attached to his doubts over whether his neighbor would really want to be involved with someone like him was the fear that he would do it out of malice.

And still, it almost hurt to think about it because Emmett was one of the kindest people he'd met up until now, and besides…

Edward really wanted to invade his personal space—this was a pretty good code for sex, he had to admit—just like those excessively enthusiastic people did in public, only he wanted to do that someplace private and appropriate and unsusceptible to water sprays.

Squinting in concentration, he lifted his gaze to the upper floor of Garrett's house and its row of glass windows, goldened by the lamplight from inside. One of them showed only a pair of curtains that blocked the sight of whatever the hell was happening in the room, and the others…

The others left little to the imagination, and with a quick, embarrassed glance at them, Edward turned back to Emmett, cringing inwardly at the vision of the two of them lying on—on béchamel-tainted sheets like a pair of idiots who didn't live across each other and had every single opportunity to do whatever they wanted, anytime they wanted.

Except when the grey-haired lady from the first floor came around to complain about the noise, but that was nothing one of his most secret kinks couldn't solve.

He must have looked deep in thought because suddenly, Emmett's glinting blue eyes enlarged, his hold on his hand tightening.

"Oh, God. You're really considering it. Wait, you— I know "Lie to Me" is probably bullshit, but I've learned some things. Are you actually making plans?"

 _Yes, even with your ridiculously sculpted chest shoved in my face. I am rather impressed with myself._

"You haven't eaten lasagna in your bed recently, have you?"

"I hope that's not code for fucking."

"The point of codes is to refrain from being too blunt, you know."

Emmett chuckled, but there was a hint of wary soberness in his eyes that Edward couldn't help but be silenced by. It occurred to him that just a minute before, he'd been stressing over what'd appeared to be a complete lack of certainty, and now he couldn't help but wonder if all this time he'd just been hackneying the Cartesian method.

"Are you sure about this?"

He thought about it for a few seconds. People with phobias tended to overestimate probabilities, which didn't mean that at least some of their fear wasn't legitimate. It just meant that they normally amplified the danger of doing things to the point of missing out on some pretty grand moments.

Edward nodded, his insides warm and fuzzy with anticipation.

"Yeah, I'm sure. If you are, too."

Emmett grinned, and now that the reality of his new relationship status had finally swept over him, Edward smiled back, for once totally unconcerned about anything but the fact that if he didn't get his boyfriend out of his damp, clingy clothes, he'd probably get sick.

Or not. Cold water didn't really cause sickness.

But it was a good enough excuse to convince Emmett.


	5. Consummation

"Well, someone's been busy."

Jasper's future conquest had made a good job out of decorating their living room for… nothing in particular— plastic pumpkins littered the window sills and wooden shelves as spider-webs hung off the edges of their furniture and little toy witches sat on top of their TV set and coffee table.

It looked as if Alice Brandon had not only taken ownership of most of his roommate's attention but also of his house, and Emmett imagined that it wouldn't be long before she took hold of his heart as well. In fact, now that he thought of it, maybe he should be the one to give his best friend a small push.

Indeed, he should. He'd be returning a hell of a favor.

"Maybe we can go to my place instead…"

"Nah, don't worry. I texted Jasper," he said, walking into the kitchen and feeling his lips stretch naturally upon the sound of Edward's footsteps behind him. "This was probably Alice's deed. She has too much fun decorating things for nobody's enjoyment but hers. Hey, do you want something to drink?"

"Water would be nice," the redhead answered with a playful hint in his voice that Emmett hadn't heard before. He turned around to see his neighbor's celadon irises disappear behind two booming pupils and the edge of his mouth rise in an unusual smile as he advanced towards him and seized the hem of his white tee. "I do believe, though, that we've had enough of that tonight."

Made still by the appearance of another one of Edward's personality gems, Emmett let his upper body be carefully uncovered with the thought that pop psychology was, in fact, right— _it_ is _always the quiet ones_ — flashing repeatedly through his haze-filled head like a mantra.

"Fuck," the other breathed out, his gaze sweeping over his naked torso as the skin on his cheeks reddened, and he felt his cock twitch at the sound of a curse leaving Edward's mouth, even as softly as it had. "You're beautiful. Really."

Emmett's chest heaved upon a small chuckle while his crush's pale fingers traced the lines of his abs and the contours of his hips, his catlike eyes seeming to catch every detail as they darted between the different parts of his body. A chilly breeze shook the curtains that bordered the window, but he could barely be bothered by it— not when the person he'd been pining for throughout the past two months was touching him and looking at him like this.

Wrapping his arms around Edward's waist, he pulled his slender body flush against his and buried his nose in the hollow of his collarbone, feeling the subtle scent of deodorant trickle up his nose. His hands fumbled with wool and cotton as they searched for warm skin, slipping clumsily beneath the redhead's clothes and coming up to rest on the middle of his back.

"My room?" he muttered, leaving a trail of kisses on Edward's neck and cheek.

"Would Jasper be mad if we used his?"

Emmett leaned back in surprise, asking himself mockingly what kind of mess he'd gotten into. But his neighbor's green eyes were bright and amused, his shoulders trembling in silent laughter as the blush on his freckle-dusted cheekbones deepened.

"Actually," he said slowly, his hands reaching for the back of the redhead's thighs, "he'd be pretty mad, but you know what?" Here he bent his knees and lowered his voice to a growl, preparing for the big moment. "I don't really care."

"Em—" Edward yelped as his body was suddenly lifted onto the other's shoulder. "What on earth are you doing?"

Emmett laughed as he walked out of the kitchen and across the living room, his arm pressed tightly against Edward's ass.

"Just giving you a ride to the land of adrenaline. I didn't know you were the kinky kind, but I'm certainly not complaining."

"Wha… You think I have some sort of fetish-like fascination with intruding on people's—" His legs began to twist around against the brunet's chest when he barged into his best friend's room. "Emmett, I'm not having sex in here!"

"All right! Jeez. You're a tough sack of potatoes, you know that?"

To put more emphasis on the comparison, he dropped his (possible) boyfriend onto his bed, which dipped with a whine and then made him bounce back, and without furthering his wait, crawled on top of him. His lips found a mouth that was still open to let in and out a series of ragged breaths, and all too soon, his hands were gliding over Edward's sides, pushing up his two sweaters until he got the hint and lifted his arms to help Emmett take them off.

"Fuck. If I'm beautiful, then you're a work of art," he whispered, and his teeth latched onto the flesh of the redhead's neck as his fingers worked on unbuttoning his pants.

"No way—shit— that we're doing the compliment game. You won't stand a chance."

"Why? You'll wax me some poetry?" he chuckled, pulling down the other's jeans along with his boxers until he was completely naked.

He'd said it in a slightly joking tone, but the truth was that Edward's body was just as stunning as a figure in one of those underground works of photography— something about the subtleness of the strength in his arm muscles and the boyish, inward curve of his waist made him want to pull him against his own body and just… hold him.

"I will," Edward murmured, his chest heaving beneath a light blush and his eyes shiny but serious. "For sure."

Emmett wondered what had really taken him so long, why he'd let his neighbor's multi-faceted nature stop him from going after what he wanted, when in reality, he appreciated every side of him and when, in the back of his mind, he'd always known that Edward liked him back.

Because right now, as he pushed himself up on his palms and looked down at him, he couldn't come up with any reason why he hadn't seen it as worthwhile to move his ass sooner.

"Yeah? Are you thinking of some good metaphors right now?" he said, leaning down to steal a kiss or two, as his hand reached for the head of Edward's cock, his fingers tracing teasing paths over the underside.

"You can't… Damn," the redhead gasped, his face contorting beneath Emmett's while he feebly tugged at the waistband of his pants. "You can't write metaphors about sex and possibly sound poetic."

"Sure you can. Thy hose is ready to water my hand. See?"

Edward cringed in between his panting, his movements faltering slightly.

"Who the hell…" Emmett's digits travelled further, reaching beneath his ball sack to tentatively touch his entrance. "Oh, God, fuck… Who the hell thought that was a— a decent analogy? Jesus. Where's the lube?"

"Not a fan of preliminaries, huh?"

"Just take off your pants."

 _Aye, aye, captain._

Emmett made short work of removing the rest of his clothes, his stomach ablaze with a restlessness that mirrored the redhead's. His member pulsed between his legs as he moved on top of him once more, searching blindly at the same time for the handle of his top drawer.

It occurred to him suddenly, when he finally got hold of what they needed, that just hours before, he'd worried silently that Edward would leave the party with someone he didn't really know simply because throughout all this time, his neighbor had always let him think that he wasn't the most open of people as far as bedroom affairs were concerned.

It was one thing to be simply shy in general and another to be also particularly reserved about sex.

Just like it was one thing to be desperate to get some and another to let his libido overrule his mind and turn him into an asshole.

"Hey, hey," he said quickly, shutting his eyes tightly as Edward's hand stopped moving around his cock. "Fuck. Hold on."

His crush blinked up at him with concern etched onto his features.

"What's wrong?"

"I really like you," he breathed out, his eyes boring into the other's green ones, trying to convey the sincerity of his words. "You know that, right?"

Edward stared at him for a moment, the freckles on his cheeks fading into the flood of blood that rushed across his skin while a smile tugged at the edge of his lips. His hand slid behind Emmett's head, bringing him down for a slow, gentle kiss that pushed every thought out of his mind for a few seconds and then travelled down his back and squeezed his ass cheek.

"Yeah, I know that now," he said, letting the brunet settle deeper into the space between his thighs. "I really like you, too."

"That's right. I remember," Emmett chuckled, sitting up on his knees to coat his fingers with lube. "You want to invade my personal space like no one else does."

Leaning down in a swift movement and with a kiss, he swallowed the protest that threatened to leave Edward's mouth, his tongue slipping past red, swollen lips as his fingers chased a happy trail and moved towards the Promised Land.

He took his time preparing his boyfriend— not because he was feeling particularly patient today, but because he wanted to carve this moment into his memory, to register every one of Edward's groans for when they did this again, after he'd gotten familiar with the best ways to make him throw his head back like he was doing now.

"Fuck," the redhead gasped, his hand fumbling for the condom packet on the bedside table. His teeth tore into the edge as soon as he'd retrieved it, and Emmett's throbbing cock twitched upon the sight. He helped him put it on with rushed, trembling fingers, smoothing down the latex with his palm. "I'm ready. I'm more than ready."

Wrapping his arms around the other's waist, Edward pulled his body down until they were pressed tight against each other, his legs bending beside each of the brunet's bulging biceps. Emmett positioned himself at the other's slick entrance, holding the base of his cock as it pushed slowly past the ring of muscle.

 _Fuck. He's tight._

"Are you okay?" he asked when he was finally sheathed in the redhead's channel. Edward's face was twisted into a slight grimace, but he nodded anyway as a quiet exhale left his mouth. Emmett started a slow, gentle rhythm with his hips, hoping that the burn would ease and disappear beneath what _he_ had been overcome with— an almost painful urge to move and let the energy that'd been bubbling inside him since that moment in the kitchen drain away.

"Come on," Edward gasped out. His fingers gripped the flesh of Emmett's buttocks, trying to pull him deeper into him and then skimmed over his torso until they reached the tight, black curls on the back of his head. His green eyes were large and filled with anticipation. "Come on. It's okay. Let go."

With a grunt, Emmett did just that. His hands pressed against the other's thighs until he was almost bent in half, as his hips began to pound against the supple flesh of Edward's ass.

The sound of their heavy breathing was lost in the heady fog that enveloped his senses. With Edward's long legs wrapped around his waist, Emmett began a series of fast thrusts that was accompanied by the feeling of the redhead's teeth scraping his neck, while his hand slid between them to squeeze the head of his dick.

"Shit… Emmett," he groaned, his own hips rising off the mattress to meet his. "Fuck, yeah. Touch me."

 _Dammit_. It shouldn't be possible for someone to sound so innocently obscene, and yet Edward was managing just fine, his strained voice filtering through the haze around Emmett's head and making him pound harder and harder into him, the head of his cock brushing against his prostate each time.

"I'm close," he rasped out, feeling something in his stomach curl deeper into itself. Lowering his head, he pushed Edward's lips apart with his tongue as his hands roamed a pair of fleshy ass cheeks.

His climax hit him soon after, his vision darkening around the edges as streams of cum leaked between their bodies.

"Fuck," he said when his senses returned, and his chest quivered against Edward's as he laughed. "That was awesome."

"Yeah," Edward muttered breathlessly, shifting underneath him. "Know what'd be even more awesome?"

"What?"

"If I didn't die of asphyxiation."


	6. Epilogue

A.N.: Salut! Sorry for the big, big delay, Born (and everyone who's been reading and reviewing and whom I'm very thankful, too), but I've been kind of caught up in exam prep, so. Anyway, ladies and gents, I present you the epilogue of "The Hose Party", which shows our two birds' future… right after the last chapter. Ahem. I hope you enjoy it and that you all had a merry, merry Christmas and an awesome New Year's Eve with all you deserve.

Epilogue

If it weren't for the fact that his lungs had just nearly been squashed to death, Edward would've missed the feeling of Emmett's member inside him.

Actually, he ended up missing it anyway, but it was also nice to be able to breathe properly once again.

"This calls for a celebration. Do we have cake in the fridge?"

Edward refrained from smiling at the sudden heat in his belly by trying to distance himself (for now) from the idea of a future when these questions would be as casual and routine as coming home every day to sweaty workout clothes scattered across the floor.

He shrugged, unable now to stop his lips from curling up as he finally realized that Emmett was doing that thing where he fished for a certain kind of reaction.

His boyfriend was really smart. And very sneaky, of course.

"How would I know?"

"I don't know. You're at Yale. You're supposed to know everything."

"Wow. Thanks for not putting pressure on me or anything."

Emmett grinned, and with a grunt, lifted himself off the bed, stumbling when his foot caught on a piece of clothing.

Edward stood up as well and cast a quick glance at the floor, where his Norwegian sweater lay forgotten.

"Christmas jumpers on Halloween… Tsk, tsk. Are you another puppet of savage capitalism?"

"Aren't we all, comrade?" the redhead called out from the bathroom, where he wetted the edge of a towel to clean up the cum that'd begun to dry on his stomach. His gaze surveyed his surroundings as he stood in front of the mirror, halting at the sight of a cup on the counter, filled with toothbrushing tools.

He remembered his own toothbrush, dismal and lonely as it sat on the edge of his cabinet, and wondered if all this time that he'd spent reinforcing his own skepticism about Emmett's feelings for him could, in the long run, be of benefit to them both. It posed a contrast with how he felt now and seemed, for that reason, to cool down his euphoria and remind him that there were things that he needed to maintain some reservations about— like long-term plans for a future that was technically still uncertain.

"Here," Emmett said, slipping a sweatshirt over Edward's head without warning. "Jasper's clothes would probably fit you better, but I want to see mine on you, so deal with it."

The redhead awkwardly pushed his arms into each of the sweater's huge sleeves, and his cheeks were set to flame when the cotton layer on the inside brushed against his skin. Somehow the way the fabric engulfed him in its plain smoothness summoned the memory of Emmett's weight— suffocating as it was— bearing down on him after their climax.

He was tempted to sneak into his apartment to take Kundera's jewel off his shelf and read it aloud to his boyfriend so they could talk that kind of stuff out.

Because _this_ he was sure about— Emmett was as patient and caring as all hell, so even if he wasn't much of a fan of philosophical conversations, he could trust him to listen to him rant about his favorite passages and actually listen.

 _Unlike some people_ , he thought, remembering his life back in Chicago and taking a deep breath as a surge of sheer appreciation for the man in front of him flooded his chest. He wrapped his arms around Emmett's waist then, lodging his chin in the dip of his collarbone.

"There's this book called _Descartes' Error,_ " he said suddenly, shivering as the other's hands splayed on his back. "You might've heard of it. It's mainly about the relation between emotion and cognition, but it doesn't refer to it like there's a dualism between the two."

Lost in his head again, Edward went quiet, wondering if he should know better by now than to wage a war between what he felt and what he thought. Maybe because he'd always been taught— even against science's better judgment— that rationality should prevail over all else, he'd acquired a natural tendency to regard it as a safety-net while seeing emotion, inversely, as a cannon, and all the while…

He'd ignored the holes in that same safety-net and the power of intuition, denying himself, at the same time, the opportunity to be happy for fear that instincts could not be trusted.

And all of this didn't occur to him now without an undertone of irony— _after_ _all_ , fear was also an emotion.

"How interesting," he muttered, and Emmett leaned away from him.

"What is?"

The redhead readied himself to verbalize what was on his mind, but something in the corner of his eye made him stop dead in his tracks.

"Oh my God."

His boyfriend twisted his neck to see what he was so horrifyingly staring at, and a loud laugh echoed in the small bathroom. 

"Great, Alice," he chuckled, looking over his shoulder at the skeleton suit that hung from the wall hangers behind the cabinet. "Go big or go home."

"This isn't _right_."

"What, Alice decorating the bathroom as well? It's okay. I don't mind."

"No, you don't understand." Edward shook his head, pointing an accusing finger at the shorter bone between the skeleton's legs. " _That_ isn't right. Vertebrate skeletons do not extend to… southern regions. At best, you have a hydrostatic structure down there which— Why are you laughing? There are people who seriously think that penises have bones, Emmett. We don't need stuff like this bolstering that idea."

His boyfriend's chuckles rang beautifully across the short distance between them for a while longer as he stood there with a blank face, not knowing whether he should be frustrated by the fact that he wasn't being taken seriously or endeared by the dimples that graced Emmett's smile.

"Oh, God…" the brunet muttered and, draping a burly arm over Edward's waist, tucked him gently into his side. "I'm so glad I met you."

Feeling his ears grow fire-hot, the redhead lowered his head to hide the silly smile that spread across his face, all the while remembering that ephemeral moment before Emmett had slid into him, when he'd actually stopped to reassure him, tell him that he _really liked_ him, and made him feel, for once, like—

There was nothing to be afraid of.

"I'm glad I met you, too," he said quietly and took a deep, involuntary breath as yet another realization flooded his head.

It seemed almost absurd, the amount of effort he'd put into doubting his own instincts, when all this time they had been right. Not only that, but the thought of doing such a thing actually appeared illogical, contrary to his own convictions, especially after he'd read an entire book about the subject and agreed with everything on those pages except for the dense, European-esque style of writing.

He'd thought too much about it. _Comme d'habitude._

And now (as usual) his mind was distracted by yet another detail just below his line of sight, making his brow crease in contemplation.

"Um… We lived up to the gay stereotype."

Emmett's chest quivered as he laughed. "What do you mean?"

"We fucked in our socks."

"That's a stereotype?"

"If you consider many X-rated movies out there, yes."

"Like your _French classic_?"

Edward gritted his teeth upon the teasing tone that colored his boyfriend's voice but felt at the same time the side of his lips curl up in amusement. A paradoxical feeling bloomed again in his belly— it was the fear of being mocked after he'd been stripped of his defenses, combined with the happiness of having been able to let go of said defenses, in order to feel every bump of Emmett's humor, every contour of his personality, every ridge of his affection brush against his tender soul.

"Yeah. Like my French classic. There's a very interesting pattern connecting most of the scenes."

"How on Earth did you even notice that?"

The redhead leaned back for a moment, eyeing the other confusedly.

"Do you mean to say you never get bored of watching amateurish actors pretend that porn is mostly a way of compensating for the lack of actual sex in people's lives, which if you think about it, might just be a way of reducing their aggressive urges and avoiding social conflicts?"

Emmett blinked.

"Not really."

"All right, that's admittedly from the perspective of a conspiracy theorist, but I think you know what I mean. At some point, you just start noticing other things."

The brunet waggled his eyebrows.

"Like ways of seducing the pants off your partner and giving him eargasms just by cursing?"

Edward's shoulders shrugged under the weight of the other's arm, as his teeth sank into his bottom lip. The thought that he had indeed the ability to seduce this man, this quarterback whom he'd both longed for and been almost intimidated by for weeks now, made a silly and yet hesitant smile appear on his face.

Emmett lowered his lips to the redhead's ear, looking at their reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"That moment in the kitchen… I fucking loved how you confirmed my suspicions about the biochemistry student from across the hall. He's hot when he's shy, and he's even hotter when he's bold."

The little air inside Edward's lungs escaped in a sudden sigh, incited by the warm hand that travelled under the sweatshirt he'd put on, taking with it the remains of his past worries and his reflections about his own psyche and the regret of not having taken a chance sooner.

 _Oh, well, at least the cider helped._

And Jasper, from what he'd gathered. He should definitely thank Jasper as well.

"Are you thinking of doing anything else tonight with this biochemistry student, then?"

"Um, actually…" Emmett hummed, his fingers sliding quickly across Edward's skin as he took a step back. A teasing dimple showed up above the smirk that now colored his face. "I think I might check if there's still cake after all," he said and, with a rigid salute, disappeared from the bathroom.

"Oh, fuck you," the redhead muttered, smiling despite himself at the sheer _nerve_ of his handsome, talented, caring neighbor, at the fact that he was now his.

Emmett's voice boomed across the hall upon his words, as the whine of a fridge door opening made itself heard. "Later, Yale boy!"


End file.
